


DDADDS: Monster AU

by FalseProphet (Batmanthegroomer)



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: AU, Gen, M/M, monster au, smallmarch
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-07 04:28:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11615868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batmanthegroomer/pseuds/FalseProphet
Summary: The Monster AU nobody asked for but I'm giving you anyway.Essentially take our dads (please!) and make them all monsters. That's about it. Set before MC would have entered the scene. Featuring my horrible humor, definitely more in tune with the cult ending, and guess that monster tropes for the dads (and kids).Shaping up to be long; gory and explicit; but will have happy endings and fluff.





	1. hit me with your best shot(s)

**Author's Note:**

> This is definitely a DARK and ADULT work--but I do enjoy happy endings and fluff so there is that.
> 
> Each chapter will get specific warnings but overall this is very in tune with the cult ending.
> 
> This chapter in particular contains: discussion of sex, language, mention of drug use, alcohol use  
> This chapter: Mary and Robert’s regular drinking game at Jim & Tim’s is interrupted by a rather irate Hugo…

“Did I…? Well, yes, but no.” Mary laughed as Robert nearly choked on his whiskey. He wiped the back of his hand over his mouth as she continued to cackle.

“That’s not an answer. You’re not even trying.” He growled slightly, amused but also too damned curious for her games. His cheeks were slightly red at having literally inhaled the aged whiskey. He watched as Mary’s face hardened, laughter slowly dying off. She shrugged and threw a hand into the air dismissively.

“I did love him, probably for a few years before things started clicking. Certainly well before any of the kids.” She paused and rolled the whiskey glass in one hand, almost thoughtfully. “The thing is though, what I loved wasn’t him… right? I mean, obviously. So did I really love him? Does it count if it’s only an idea that you’re in love with? The guy I,” she paused to belch, “the guy I loved wasn’t real, he didn’t exist so doesn’t that kind of—in some fucked up way—mean my love didn’t really exist either?”

“Shit.” Robert grumbled, running a hand through his hair. “Fuck if I know.”

“So there you have it. Yes but no.” Mary turned the glass upside down and slammed it onto the table. She grinned wickedly across the table at Robert; the man leaned back slightly.

“My turn.” 

“Nothing about Val.” Robert said quickly, pointing at Mary with a serious expression. He watched her fein offense, a hand over her chest.

“Did you fuck him or did he fuck you?” 

“We fucked.” Robert narrowed his eyes slightly. He could only get so pissed, after all he hadn’t said the affair was off the table, just Val. Mary was playing by his rules; but playing dirty.

“Nuh uh. Not an answer.” Mary sneered, looking like a dog standing over a rabbit hole.

“Both. I-I mean…” Robert pressed his hands against the side of the table as if he was trying to push it away. He shoved himself further into the booth but had no escape. “It started—I couldn’t… He—“

Mary’s laughter interrupted Robert’s confession. He sighed a little and looked away.

“You can’t even talk about it! Years later and you still act like you did something wrong!”

“Mary, you’re… I mean, he was married to you!” Robert leaned over the table and hissed.

“Oh fuck that. You and I both know by the time you did the horizontal mambo that Joseph and I were over; or at least that I had seen the light. I’ve known longer than you, sailor.”

Robert huffed indignantly and waved for another round. He watched Neil nod and smile, shaking his head. Robert wondered just how much of the dive bar was funded by he and Mary and their stupid games and avoidance techniques. The duo fell silent as they waited for more whiskey. Silences between them were baited and heavy but also comfortable—like the blanket you have to have on you even in 100 degree weather otherwise the boogeyman will get you.

“My turn,” Robert groaned through clenched teeth as he downed his shot. He received a nod from Mary as she regarded her next drink quietly.

“You ever let him stick it in your ass?”

The duo fell into hysterics, Mary leaning backwards and Robert slapping the table. They were causing a ruckus but Jim and Tim’s was almost empty anyway. After laughing far too long at such an asinine joke the two finally caught their breath. Silence again filled in between them. Robert wasn’t expecting an answer and Mary assumed the game was over—which was fine, honestly. She watched as Robert slowly leaned forward to slump onto the table, temple resting on his forearm. He began to poke at his empty glass. Mary reached up and ran her fingers over the cross around her neck.

“How did you…” Robert started, then abruptly stopped. Mary knew she had a 50/50 chance of hearing the end of the question. As the whiskey ransacked her mind she found herself hoping he’d continue, anything to distract her even if it meant talking about what she was running from.

“With Joseph, how did you—“

Mary and Robert were jolted out of their misery as a pair of hands slammed down onto the other end of the table. They both turned drunken, fuzzy gazes towards the owner of said hands. It was Hugo and he looked mad. He looked real mad. The duo regarded each other a moment, wondering just how far gone they were to not have seen the wheelchaired man approach.

“Hu~ugo,” Mary sang, smiling, “isn’t it a school night?”

“Don’t play cute, Mary.” Hugo grumbled, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. Robert sat up and eyed Mary curiously.

“Did you. Give. My son. Weed?” Hugo’s words were slow and though it seemed like he was looking to give Mary a chance to explain herself, it was also quite clear that he was livid. Robert was waiting for steam to escape his ears.

“Did I? No.” Mary shook her head and fluttered her eyelashes. She saw Hugo grind his teeth together.

“All right. Did you. Tell my son. Where. To get weed?” 

“Oh. Yes.” Mary nodded. “Absolutely.” 

Robert stifled a laugh as best he could, ending up making a snorting noise to rival his Betsy. Hugo’s left eye twitched. He seemed to be trying to coax his brain to find words when what it wanted was to morph into the Incredible Hulk.

“How… Why… What…” Hugo’s words were strained. 

“Relax, Hugo,” Mary sighed, almost seeming completely sober, “there are worse things he could have been doing. He had been trying to score some alcohol, so I did you both a favor.”

“A favor!?”

“Self-medicating is a slippery slope; weed is gonna be the least of your concerns if he keeps it up.”

Robert blinked at Mary, impressed that she was able to say ‘slippery slope’ in her state. They’d gone shot for shot and he was feeling it so he knew she was at least in the same boat. Her answer, however, did nothing to calm the teacher.

“Are you seriously giving me parenting advice, Mary Christiansen?” Hugo hissed, even as he started rolling his chair backwards. “I can’t have this conversation right now—the bar is crowded and… I’m not sure if I know a proper word to convey just how angry I am.”

“I’m sorry?” Mary shrugged, frowning.

“We’ll discuss this later.” Hugo whispered, turning and excusing himself from the bar. 

Mary watched him for a moment before turning her gaze to the table. It was littered with empty shot glasses which reflected rainbows in the dim light. She slumped forward and covered her face with her hands. She could feel Robert watching her silently. She’d known him long enough to know that those big gray eyes were trying to say so many things that he’d never give voice too.

“Isn’t it a full moon tonight?” Mary shot, sneering a little. “Don’t you have a basement to lock yourself in?” She regretted the tone almost immediately, but she knew Robert understood the angry defense.

“Tomorrow.” Robert grunted and crossed his arms over his chest. He felt the cold ache in his bones through the warm whiskey. His hands tightened over his biceps, dull nails digging in even through the leather jacket. A quick sidelong glance revealed Mary with her head tipped back, eyes closed. 

He watched her jaw quiver slightly before she swallowed hard and regained control.

“I’m throwing in the towel.” He sighed, unwrapping his arms and sliding out of the booth. “You need me to walk you home?”

“Nah, I’m not ready to go yet, Small.” Mary offered a wry smile. “I’ll settle up with Neil tonight, you get some sleep.” She chewed on her bottom lip a second. “You won’t get it tomorrow so…”

“Huh.” Robert shook his head. “Almost thought you cared for a second.” He paused before he left and placed a hand on her shoulder. He waited until she took the bait and looked at him.

“Fuck you, Mary.” He said, though his tone conveyed nothing but sympathy.

“As if you’d be so lucky.”


	2. grave consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter in particular contains: mention of suicide, glorification of suicide, suicidal thoughts, brooding Robert, alcohol use, violence, murder, dead body, self loathing, gore
> 
> This chapter: Robert was supposed to be heading home, but a detour lands him face-to-face with the last person he wants to see…

Robert found himself stumbling into a back alley about an hour later. He shook his head and braced himself with a hand on cold brick. He was usually really good about making his way directly home once he decided to call it a night, but the wanderlust was strong. He grumbled and turned to lean back against the wall, he grimaced a little. His body ached all over, like he’d had the adrenaline shakes for hours; even his guts seemed to vibrate. Even after almost thirty years as a werewolf his body still rebelled against the transformation. He’d heard rumors that transforming more often—when he wasn’t absolutely compelled—would make the once-a-month binges more tolerable… but he rarely had the nerve.

His feet were moving before he really knew what he was doing and he found himself at over-look at an obscene hour. It was quiet and lonely, the moon low on the horizon and the city lights still twinkling, just the way he liked it. He leaned onto the railing and let his eyes unfocus. It wasn’t a long fall but he wondered if it would kill him. Killing a werewolf was hard as hell—and he knew first hand—but maybe a combination of traumas and he could let himself bleed out before the healing factor caught up with him.  
His intrusive thoughts were interrupted by a loud crack in the distance—an easily identifiable crack. He lifted his head from where it had come to rest on his crossed arms. He imagined perking his ears and zeroing in on the sound. He could still feel the whiskey sloshing around in the back of his mind but it was dull. There was no follow-up gunshot, but Robert was damned sure he heard digging.

Fuck. He didn’t need this. Not tonight.

He turned and shoved his hands into his pockets, starting down the long hill in the opposite direction. He could just walk away. There was nothing tying him to what was obviously happening—what he knew without a doubt was going on. He didn’t know anyone at risk; Mary was safely at the bar; he wasn’t needed. The deed was done in any case, what good would it do him to stick his nose where it shouldn’t be?

He hadn’t gotten five feet from the railing when his body refused to go any further. He was in it now and he couldn’t lie to himself. Joseph was branching out of the cul-de-sac and it didn’t settle well. Robert had to know. He had to investigate. He couldn’t sleep if he walked off now.

He turned and slowly crawled over the railing, prior thoughts of simply throwing himself into the incline gone. His footing was fairly solid but loose pebbles and dry dirt caused him to stumble more than once. He threw his arms out for balance and ended up on his ass in the end anyway. He could still hear the digging when he held still and that gave him great pause. If he could hear Joseph, he knew Joseph could hear him. His gut twisted unpleasantly and his throat burned like threatening tears or too much hot sauce.

If he were transformed he might be sneakier.

A long string of curses ran through his mind as he stripped off his leather jacket and tossed it back up towards the railing. The rest of his clothing he could trash but that jacket was special. He slid a little in the dirt and thrust his fingers into the incline to hold himself still. It took next to nothing to start the changes and he gritted his teeth as he felt his body warping, re-forming, shredding his clothing. A light coat of dusty brown fur spread over him as his nails turned into rending claws. His mouth popped forward into a muzzle as his spine extended into a rather fluffy tail.

He took a second to catch his breath and then slowly pulled his paws out of the dirt. He lifted his head and turned his ears side to side as he pin pointed exactly where Joseph was in the woods below. Leave it to the blond asshole to force Robert into these situations. He knew Robert hung out at the over-look, and there were plenty of god-damned places to hide a body. He did it on purpose.

The werewolf skidded almost silently down the hill and dropped to all fours on even ground. He loped into the woods and kept his steps light and quick. He made a wide circle around the area he’d determined Joseph was hiding, coming in closer with each rotation. The digging was louder and Robert could smell fresh blood.

“You’re so very bad at this, you know.” Joseph’s voice greeted Robert on a tight rotation. The werewolf froze. “I’m starting to think you want me to know you’re there.”

Robert peered through the trees and watched as Joseph stopped digging. The blond wore dark clothes—a hoody and black slacks—and had his back to the werewolf. Joseph’s head tilted slightly over his right shoulder and Robert felt his breathing hitch as Joseph’s gaze met Robert’s dead on. He swallowed and stalked forward cautiously, all four legs stiff. There was no use hiding after that.

Joseph’s eyes followed his stalker, half-lidded and almost amused. He turned back to his digging as Robert moved into the very small clearing behind him. He was showing his back but he had no fear that the werewolf would try anything even remotely effective. He was almost done digging anyway.

“Well?” Joseph pressed after an extended silence, feeling Robert standing just out of reach. “You’re not going to admonish me, Robert?” The blond chuckled and tossed the shovel to the side. He turned and crossed his arms over his chest.

“What’s the point?” Robert growled, words hard to make out. 

Joseph followed Robert’s gaze to the dead man at his feet. He watched a wave of sickness wash over the werewolf and could imagine a palor coming over Robert’s dark skin. He sighed heavily and placed a hand high on his chest.

“The man left me no choice, you know. He kept poking around; kept messaging me. I tried to explain it to him, how this worked, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Honestly I’m doing the rest of you a favor. The last thing we need is some clingy reporter hanging around, digging up personal information.” 

“You’re a saint.” Robert grumbled sarcastically as he rounded the grave. He lowered his muzzle and sniffed at the corpse. He did vaguely recognize the guy as the man who’d woken him up a few days ago at noon to ask questions about Joseph. It still didn’t justify murder. He startled and took a quick step back as Joseph grabbed the man’s ankles and began tugging him towards the hole.

“Could you lend a hand there, neighbor?” Joseph chirped. Robert snarled. “Oooh, sour sport. That’s not very friendly.” The blond continued tugging, making it look like back-breaking work even though both men were well aware that he was capable of throwing the body in with a single finger.

Robert wasn’t sure what he’d thought he was going to accomplish. He knew the second he’d heard the gunshot that the man was dead. He never went through on his threats against Joseph; why did he even bother? He stood rather frozen as the body was unceremoniously dumped and hastily covered.

Joseph smirked and approached the werewolf—a smallish creature compared to what movies would have you believe. He knelt down and reached out to stroke Robert’s head like one would a dog.

Robert snapped back to the present and whipped his head to the side. He sunk his teeth into Joseph’s forearm and enjoyed the gasp he earned. He locked eyes with the blond and clamped down harder, watching shock and then anger fade into a usually soft face. He held on as Joseph lifted him off the ground and attempted twice to fling him free. 

On the third shake Joseph felt the teeth slide free and he winced. He flung Robert bodily into a nearby tree and brought his arm up to look at the wound. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Barbaric, Robert! Honestly.” He seemed distracted, not bothering to watch as Robert shook off the blow and charged him. The blond narrowed his eyes and drew the gun from his holster in a second, firing a shot into Robert’s shoulder. As the werewolf roared and tumbled into the dirt Joseph shook his head.

“There’s no need to be so rude. The hero complex does not suit you, Robert.” 

Robert could feel his skeleton vibrating from the hit, muscles and tendons in his shoulder began working slowly to try and repair the damage—the whiskey still thick in his blood stream slowed the progress however. He climbed shakily to his paws and stalked forward once more. He watched Joseph raise an eyebrow and felt thrilled at the surprise he caused the blond. He reared up onto his back legs and lunged.

Joseph aimed low and pulled the trigger once, stepping backwards to avoid the werewolf. He could practically see Robert’s guilt shackling him from doing any kind of serious damage. He was easy to predict and even easier to out maneuver in this state. It was almost like suicide by cop; he couldn’t end his own life and some part of him sought conflict with Joseph to see it through. 

Robert hit the ground and gasped, ignoring Joseph’s exaggerated sigh. He glanced down to his inner left thigh where blood was rushing out of him in great, pulsing waves. He felt panic set in, running over his skin like a cold chill. He snapped his eyes up to Joseph in stunned shock; the blond shrugged.

“You left me no choice. I’d get some pressure on that wound soon though, I think I hit an artery. Alcohol slows your healing, yes?” Joseph re-holstered his gun and picked up his shovel. He could hear Robert struggling to get his paws under him, whimpering and trying to stand.

The werewolf stood with a wince, mind wrapped completely around the feeling of his own warm blood weaving a river through his fur, dripping steadily to the ground. He tried to quell the panic, tried to remember how intoxicating the idea of death had been just moments ago, but Val came into the forefront of his mind and his world spun into panic.

“Oh, Robert, if you see Mary on the way home, would you tell her we need eggs?” Joseph called as Robert darted off unevenly into the forest.


	3. dog tired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter in particular contains: talk of death, thoughts of death, gore, blood, language
> 
> This chapter: Robert is having a hard time getting home after his altercation with Joseph. He’s pretty sure this is a lesson he’s supposed to learn from.

He was so cold, god damnit, so cold. He knew that was bad and every bit of his body screamed at him to just lie down and sleep—and he knew that was even worse. The wound in his shoulder had been completely ignored (and not even half healed yet) in favor of trying to suppress the bleed out from his thigh. The bleeding had slowed but he wasn’t sure if that was because his healing had caught it in time or if he was running on low. The matting of dried blood down his leg told him it was probably the latter. His pupils were blown, his breathing shallow and his mind still shook with the whole episode though everything was starting to feel very calm and slow.

Probably not a good sign.

The cul-de-sac was in view, at the very least, and the sun still had another hour or so. His house was close, he just had to make it there. His gait slowed to a dragging walk, useless left leg leaving a furrow behind him. His shoulders started to ache.  
His ears turned sluggishly as he heard behind him the sound of an approaching car. His heart gave a particularly hard thud. He couldn’t be seen… not like this, not here. Only a few of the other families in the cul-de-sac knew about him (he had to keep his secrets, after all) and even fewer of them would actually think to stop and help a bloodied wolf-creature, but he didn’t want to risk it. He couldn’t risk it. 

Damnit he’d been stupid.

He frantically searched the empty landscape in front of him for a place to hide but came up empty… unless… He saw the border fence of Damien Bloodmarch’s immaculate yard. He’d heard stories from Mary about how crazy Damien was about his flowers. That sounded like the best cover he was going to get in this situation.

He pushed the last of his energy into giving himself enough of a boost to make it to the fence and pull himself over. He dropped like a bag of sand into the yard below. He tilted his head up to watch the car lights pass through leaves of flowers taller than he was at the moment. 

His hip throbbed and his shoulder was certainly not in a correct position. A few streams of warm blood made their way through the dried gunk on his thigh. He needed to move. He needed to get home and tend to the injury… but all he wanted to do was sleep. The ground had not been particularly welcoming but now it felt soft and warm, yielding almost. It felt like he was melting into it.  
He let out a sharp gasp and thrust himself to his paws. Sleep meant death. He stumbled, gasped for air like a fish out of water. He took a few steps and then collapsed again to his side, knocking into something as he went down. His senses began to dull and his vision blurred as a loud thud and a crack sounded next to him. He wanted to see what had happened but… maybe… after a quick nap…


	4. ruff night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter in particular contains: many many words, language, gore, blood, improper animal medical attention, animal abuse (kind of, but only because someone thinks they have a dog and not a werewolf), also some Mary Christiansen h/cs
> 
> This chapter: Damien’s early morning/late evening with his son is interrupted by a crash in his garden. The scruffy (rugged) dog needs attention immediately and Damien knows Mary is the best person to try.

Damien’s tea almost flung from his hand across the room at a loud crash from his backyard. He stared for just a second before hastily setting down the delicate cup. He caught a confused look from Lucien across the table.

“Lucien, stay here.” He instructed. His son arched a brow and shrugged.

Damien quickly made his way into the back yard, heart in his throat. He knew there was a likely explanation but his mind kept wandering back to the rabid raccoon Craig’s girls had caught just a few days ago. He wasn’t sure he could deal with that just now.  
He paused and glanced over his shoulder at the house, Lucien was still seated at the table engrossed in his phone. Damien quietly lifted off the ground just a few inches, hovering enough to hide any sound footsteps would have made. He didn’t want to risk Lucien seeing him abuse his powers like this lest it start another fight.

The vampire moved cautiously towards the back corner of his garden, peering around each new sect of flowers with a combination of relief and a growing sense of dread. His eyes soon fell on one of his tall pedestals, and the broken gargoyle in shambles on the footpath. He let out a gasp before he could catch himself and hit the ground to dart forward before remembering why he was out in the yard in the first place.

His eyes scanned the base of the pedestal until he saw something… furry. He froze—and apparently so did the creature. Damien took in a breath and without attempting to breathed in the scent of blood—a copious amount of it—and it did not smell spicy like rabies often did. He put a hand high on his chest as he took a step closer.

“Oh, no…” He whispered, eyes landing on the poor creature. It appeared to be some sort of wolfhound mix, a large dog, and in great distress. It’s large chest moved in slow, shallow breaths, blood stained it’s fur and pooled just enough on the ground to really raise concern.

Damien took another small step forward, cautious as he knew how unpredictable injured dogs could be. He kept his eyes on the dog’s face and realized it was not currently conscious, a very bad sign. 

“Lucien!” Damien shouted over his shoulder, eyes remaining on the dog. “Lucien come here, quickly!”

Damien wanted desperately to move closer and assess further but he knew it was too risky. It was a large and strange dog with serious injuries and if it woke up and decided to lash out it could cause serious harm to its rescuer.

“Yeah? What do you—Oh shit!” Lucien yelped as he rounded the corner. His dash forward was stopped by Damien’s hand on his shoulder. He glanced worriedly up at his father.

“I need you to get the first aid kit out of the bathroom. It’s under the sink.” 

“Y-yeah, right. Ok.” Lucien took one more look at the dog before quickly turning to do as instructed.

Damien took a few slow steps forward, making more noise than was necessary. For better or worse the dog still did not react. Damien felt his heart clench; it certainly did not seem good. He fumbled in his pocket and retrieved his phone. Mary’s number was almost muscle memory at this point.

“Mary, please forgive my early call,” Damien said quickly, chewing on his bottom lip, “I would not disturb you unless I felt it absolutely necessary.”

“Is everything ok, Damien?” Mary’s voice was a hushed whisper. She sounded too alert to have been sleeping, which soothed Damien’s conscious.

“There’s a dog in my yard, Mary it’s… It doesn’t look good. I’m going to get it to the shelter. Can you meet me there? I’m not sure… I’m not sure if we can do anything, but at the very least we can try and figure out if someone is missing the poor thing there.”

“A dog…? Be careful, Damien. Craig’s girls—“

“The raccoon, I know.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

Damien frowned, hearing a strange voice in the background as Mary ended the call. He slid the phone back into his pocket, listening as Lucien darted down the path, first aid kit jostling noisily. 

“Here.” Lucien quickly passed the kit to his father. “How can I—what can I do?” The teen rubbed his hands together nervously, eyes darting from the dog to his father.

“Hold this,” Damien opened the kit and handed it to Lucien. He sifted through until he found the gauze. “I’m going to wrap this around it’s muzzle, in case it wakes up. It is very injured and we don’t want it to snap.” He explained, watching his son’s expression try and remain neutral.

Lucien felt a pang of concern as his father knelt very slowly next to the dog. He hadn’t considered that the dog would bite and now felt worried for both the dog and his father. He was fairly certain a dog bite wouldn’t do anything serious to a vampire, but he knew it would still hurt. Damien was also not a fan of hospitals, and with the rabies scare from the Cahn family they might have to go to be safe. Rabies could still effect his father, though to what extent the youth wasn’t sure.

Damien began unwrapping the gauze, lowering his hands steadily closer to the beast’s muzzle. He kept his eyes darting between the dog’s eyes and it’s chest—breathing coming slower. Once he felt he had unwrapped enough gauze for at least two rotations he quickly made his move. He slid the gauze under the dog’s muzzle and wrapped the extra over tightly… the dog did not stir. Damien heard Lucien let out a sigh of relief.

Lucien watched as his father carefully re-adjusted the gauze around the dog’s muzzle, not too tight but tight enough. He dropped the kit suddenly and grabbed Damien’s shoulder as the dog’s eyes opened rather quickly. He felt his father’s weight shift and tried to help brace him. 

The dog’s gray eyes seemed to try and focus, pupils widely abnormal. They seemed to regard the father and son for just a second before rolling back and closing once more.

“Shit.” Lucien slowly pulled his hand away from Damien.

“Grab my keys and go start the car, Lucien. I’m taking him to the shelter to meet Mary.” Damien slowly slid his arms under the dog.  
In a second the scent of blood hit him full force. Usually animal blood didn’t have the same effect as human blood, but something about this was different—perhaps it was the amount, or the trauma of the situation. Damien could barely give it a real thought as it made him dizzy. The dog was likely a goner anyway, a dark part of his mind suggested, why not just send the poor animal on its way quickly?

Damien swallowed hard and pressed his tongue to the sharp end of one of his fangs. He shifted the large dog in his arms, not given a second thought to the ruin it would bring to his current clothes. He was surprised at just how much the beast weighed. It made very little difference to him but even he could tell the dog was heavier than it looked, by a great deal.

The goth carefully carried the dog through his back garden, managing to shift it enough to open the gate and pass into the front. He could hear the purring of his car, and watched Lucien pull open the back door.

“I grabbed some towels.” Lucien said, stepping aside and putting his hand on Damien’s back as the dog was lowered into the car. “Should—do you need anything else?”

“No. I can’t do anything else, it’s up to Mary.”

“She—you know she flunked out of vet school, right?” Lucien said in a quiet voice, stepping back and closing the car door. Damien nodded.

“Yes, but due to no lack of intellect, mind you. She’s still the best chance he has. There are no emergency veterinary clinics close enough—I am not even sure he will make it to see Mary.” Damien frowned as he heard a soft noise escape his usually very detached son. He put a comforting hand on Lucie’s upper arm.

“I will update you regularly.”

“What? No! I want to go with you!” Lucien wiggled out of his father’s grasp.

“Lucien, you have school in just a few hours. And your allergies…” Damien pleaded, slowly making his way towards the driver’s side door.

“This is bullshit.” Lucien growled low, knowing he was not going to win the fight. “I can deal with a few hours of sneezing and red eyes, dad.”

“I am sorry. I just don’t—“

“No, you know what, nevermind.” Lucien threw his hands into the air and stalked towards the house.

“Lucien!” Damien frowned, then winced as his son slammed the front door closed behind him. He slid into the car and glanced at the dog through the rear-view mirror.

“In the very likely event that Mary can do nothing for you, my friend, I do not want Lucien to see that.” He explained. “I know he is old enough to understand that things die, certainly he has seen his fair share of death, but there is no need for another to add to his list. Not in such a fashion.” Damien heard the dog whine as he pulled onto the main road. “Stay calm. I’m taking you to someone who can help.” He offered, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth worriedly.

Robert felt his faculties slowly returning and he did not like where he had ended up. He could smell lavender and that voice, damnit there was no mistaking that voice. He was in Damien’s car. It took him a few seconds to recall that he had actually crashed into the vampire’s back yard and it made perfect sense, really, that he’d be in Damien’s car. The goth was a sucker for dogs—if Mary was to be believed—and, well, it was easy to mistake Robert as just a big dog. He’d always thought he looked like a mutt, certainly not like any kind of wolf or wolf-man.

He still hurt all over, everything felt like pins and needles. He squirmed but whimpered unconsciously at the strain. His body shivered and he tried to relax. He sucked in as deep a breath as he could and suddenly crossed his eyes to stare down at his nose. Damien had wrapped his mouth shut. Smart.

Damien’s eyes widened as he heard struggling in the back and he glanced into the rear view mirror once more. The dog was attempting to pry the gauze off its mouth. It pawed in an uncoordinated fashion but Damien had forgotten to loop the gauze behind the dog’s head, and a good swipe could free the muzzle.

“Please don’t.” Damien urged, voice strained. 

Robert paused, flicking an ear towards Damien.

“I’m taking you to see a friend. She may be able to help you.” Damien repeated.

Shit, oh shit! Robert thought. He didn’t want Damien to know what he was—especially to find out like this. Would Mary keep her mouth shut? Damnit! If she knew what was good for her she would! His anger was stalled momentarily as a wave of nausea hit him and he moaned through the gauze, wishing like hell he could pant.

Even though Damien would have much preferred the dog to be still, it was uplifting to see (hear) a soft struggle. Maybe the dog had fight enough in him to make it through.  

Robert felt dread settle in as he saw the lights of the shelter pass through the windows. Maybe Mary wouldn’t recognize him immediately… maybe they’d just put him down and he wouldn’t have to deal with any repercussions from being an idiot. He heard Damien let out a soft sigh and step out of the car. He perked his ears.

“Thank you so much, Mary. I really do apologize for disturbing you so late.”

“Damien, anything for you… I wasn’t really doing anything important. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

“I think he jumped my back fence. He’s… he’s in a bad way, I fear.”

Robert stiffened as the door inches from his nose opened. He peered up at the duo from where he laid. Instantly he saw recognition in Mary’s face as she leaned down. He saw a few fleeting seconds of indecision before she stood up and nodded. 

“Ok, let’s get him inside then.” Mary stepped to the side to let Damien pick the dog up. She fished the keys out of her pocket and moved to open the back door of the shelter. What the hell had Robert gotten into? She couldn’t leave him alone for a second! 

Mary held the door open as Damien moved by, cradling Robert like a treasured pet. The boy was far too sweet for his own good, and Robert was going to look like an ass when this all came to light. Mary would let Robert break the news to Damien, however, or she’d clean his wounds with iodine until he broke character and had no choice. 

Damien frowned and tightened his grip a little as the dog began to struggle. It seemed to be attempting to right itself, purposefully trying to wiggle free of Damien’s hands. He sighed and whispered a soft plea, once more tapping into powers he tried his hardest not to use. He felt the dog slowly relax in his arms.

Robert was stunned, in more ways than one. Had Damien just enthralled him? Bullshit! That little… Eh, it wasn’t so bad. Robert felt soft and lazy, light headed but not dizzy, like that first wave of morphine coursing through your veins. He took a slow breath through his nose, and then yelped like an idiot as he was deposited on a cold, hard exam table.

Mary had to quickly hide a smirk as she watched Damien enthrall the dog once more, cooing softly and stroking dusty brown fur. She was never, ever going to let Robert live this down. Her streak was placed on the back burner as Robert’s shifting revealed a large amount of blood on the inside of his thigh… blood which had started to drip onto the table, and which stained Damien’s shirt.

“He’s really bleeding…” Mary said quietly, trying to ignore the real concern that statement made her feel.

“He left quite a pool in my backyard,” Damien whispered. “That is what worries me the most.”

He continued to stroke the dog between the shoulders, feeling warmth spread from his hand to the beast. The dog’s eyes had managed to stay open since he woke in the car but now they seemed heavy lidded once more. Damien pulled his hand back as if burned, holding his wrist. Maybe enthralling had been a bad idea.

Robert felt the warmth of Damien’s hand pull away. He still felt hazy and almost listless but in a strangely good way. He wanted Damien to pet him some more, and tried not to linger too long on that line of thought. He was quickly jerked from his daze as he felt a hand on his right ankle, lifting and spreading his legs. He attempted quickly to sit up.

“No, down,” Mary said sternly, putting a hand on Robert’s rib cage and pushing gently. “Damien, hold this ankle. I need to see what we’re dealing with…”

Mary frowned at Damien’s cold fingers brushing against her own. She understood his particular ways but he did not feed nearly often enough for her to feel comfortable. She did have a vested interest in his health, more-so than Damien himself it seemed. She turned her attention back to the matter at hand and gently poked around where the blood was seeping from.

“Fuck!” 

Damien gasped slightly at Mary’s outburst and attempted to lean over the dog and see what she’d found. All he could make out from his angle was freshly pouring blood.

“It’s a fucking gunshot.” Mary growled, looking up at Damien. “I… we have to get the bullet out but I think it hit an artery.”

Damien knitted his brows together. He resumed stroking the dog who seemed to understand Mary’s words and began trying to stand once more.

“I don’t suppose you can give him something for the pain first?”

“No. He’s lost a shit ton of blood. I’d be too worried I’d lower his heart rate too much. He’s just gonna have to push through.” Mary directed her words at Robert, which renewed his struggles again. She had a fleeting moment where she was ready to just break the news; where she wanted to apologize to Robert and try to do everything to make this easier on him… then she remembered that he was a little shit and all this secrecy was his idea, so she decided fuck him.

“Damien, I need you to keep a hold on that ankle, and help me keep him down. I’m uh… I’ve had a bit to drink and I’m not as steady as I’d like to be, so I’m gonna be using both hands to go in after that bullet.”

“Yes, understood.” Damien shifted his weight as Mary walked away, presumably to get tools. “Well she hasn’t said you’re a lost cause, friend,” He offered the dog, cautiously petting once more and giving a final push to hopefully relax the beast. “I am sorry I cannot do more.”

Robert was going to throttle Mary if he lived through this. He let his wide eyes settle on Damien’s as the vampire addressed him and once more all the fight was gone. He let his head relax against the exam table and for a moment was content to just lie there. Slowly he began feeling vulnerable and exposed. His body shuddered and he tried to pull his leg out of Damien’s hand as a final burst of defiance.

Mary returned with a small tray of items. She tried not to glance over at Robert as she flicked on the over-head light and moved it closer. She grabbed forceps off the tray and glanced to Damien.

“You ready? I’m sure he’s going to struggle for this. Hold him as still as you can,” she nodded to Damien as he nodded, moving to press more of his arm down onto Robert’s chest. 

Mary leaned in and carefully eyed the edge of the wound. She very gently slid in a finger and began feeling around for the bullet.  
Damien let out a surprised noise as the dog indeed began to struggle. The beast was much stronger than Damien anticipated, but like the unexpected weight it was nothing Damien couldn’t handle. He turned his head away from where Mary was working and tried to meet the dog’s eyes. 

“It will be over soon, I promise,” Damien cooed, “we’ll get you fixed up and then something for the pain. I am so sorry, friend.” Damien let his pupils expand as the dog met his gaze. He watched a glassy sort of film cloud the beast’s eyes and they held. He felt sick to his stomach at paralyzing the creature but it would all be for the best in the end. Unlike enthralling he knew the dog would be fully aware of—and fully feeling—the extraction, but he would be unable to struggle while their eyes were locked. 

Robert was on fire. Mary digging around in his thigh was lighting up every single nerve in his body somehow. He wanted to thrash and yell but he couldn’t. He could not remember how to move any part of his body and he knew Damien was the reason why. His eyes were locked onto the vampire’s and he could do nothing about it. Damien’s face was soft and full of sorrow, with a smear of blood on his chin. Damnit. Robert was going to have to find some way to make it up to him later.

Mary let out a shout and stood upright, bullet clasped tightly in the forceps. She dropped it quickly to the tray and began pressing bandages against the freshly bleeding wound. She pressed hard and Robert whimpered.

“That was wonderful, Mary,” Damien praised as he broke eye contact with the dog to smile at the woman. 

“Don’t thank me yet, sunshine. I’ve got to make sure this bleeding stops,” Mary shifted her weight a little. “His pulse is kind of weak so maybe that will help.”

“You don’t need to stitch anything?” 

“Uh, no,” Mary said quickly, glancing to Robert’s furry face, “I don’t think the artery was uh… damaged that badly. It should clot on its own in just a moment.”

Damien tilted his head just slightly as Mary’s heart rate increased for a moment. He chalked it up to the stress of what she was currently doing—that or she was lying about the prognosis of the dog. Damien hoped it was the former. He returned to stroking the dog, running a few fingers gently between his eyes and back along his head.

“This should be enough for now, to stabilize him. I’ll get him on fluids and pain meds and tuck him in for the night. Later tomorrow we’ll get x-rays and go from there,” Mary slowly pulled away a little of the bandages. Robert’s healing factor seemed to have caught up nicely. She pressed them against the wound once more and began to wrap the area with gauze.

“He’s lucky,” Damien said with a smile, continuing his petting. “I’ll stop by the front desk on my way out and get some things circulating online. Maybe we can track down some owners.” Damien leaned forward and planted a kiss on the dog’s head. He gave Mary a strange look as she seemed to stare at him, rather aghast.

“What?”

“I—I just… don’t worry about that now. Your shirt is—it’s a fucking mess, Damien. Don’t you need to treat that before the stain sets?” Mary covered quickly.

Damien glanced down at his shirt and almost whimpered. He pulled at the stain, rubbing it between his fingers and sighing heavily. He nodded.

“You’re absolutely right. I might still be able to save this. Are you sure about sending me off? I do feel guilty leaving this problem on your hands, Mary.”

“Hey, I signed up for this—didn’t I? If I wasn’t in the mood to get bloody I would have told you to go fuck yourself when you called.”

“Ah, fair enough.” Damien smiled lopsidedly. “I’ll see you in a few hours then, Mary. Please do not hesitate to contact me if you need anything in the meantime.”

“Yeah, yeah, now go. That shirt is disgusting.” 

Mary blew Damien a sloppy kiss, careful not to actually touch her face with bloodied hands, and waited until she heard the back door close. She ripped off the gauze on Robert’s face.

“You asshole!” She yelled. “What in hell were you doing that you got shot? God damnit. God damnit you son of a bitch.”

“Fuck… you,” Robert’s voice was hoarse, “you just dug around in my thigh.”

“To remove a god damned bullet. And you got Damien involved? You shit head. What the hell am I supposed to tell him in a few hours?” Mary moved to sit on a stool as Robert the dog sat up. 

Robert ignored Mary’s question, he was fairly certain it was rhetorical anyway. He closed his eyes and pictured himself as he was born, naked and far less hairy. He bared his teeth in a pained grimace as the changes began, shifting and pulling at matted fur and injuries still nowhere near healed. Within a few moments he sat, naked, on the exam table, pressing his own hands to his inner thigh.

“Opened up again, didn’t it?”

“Shut up.”

Robert ducked to one side as Mary threw the bullet at him. He frowned at her, pale and bruised. She sighed heavily and stood, shooing away his hands.

“You’re going to tell me right now what you were doing, Robert Small,” She growled, pulling away the bandages and eyeing the wound once more.


	5. wolf in sheepish clothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter in particular contains: naked Robert Small, some blood, language
> 
> This chapter: Robert likes to keep secrets. It might make him mysterious, but Mary also knows it also makes him kind of an asshole. Damien might agree with her.

Damien shifted the car into reverse and started out of the parking lot. He hadn’t gone but a few feet when he realized he had no pictures of the dog. He had promised Lucien updates and he fully intended to start circulating the dog’s story the moment he got home—Mary be damned—but he couldn’t very well do that without a picture. 

He left the car idling and slipped quietly back in to the shelter. He heard Mary’s voice, low and dangerous, talking with someone. He couldn’t make out her words but smiled a little. She was just as much a softie as he was around animals.

“Mary I—Ahh!” Damien shouted as he pushed open the door. It took him a second to recognize the fully naked man seated in front of Mary on the exam table. He quickly reached up to cover his eyes, cheeks red as bell peppers, before a light clicked on. He lowered his hands slowly.

“Damien—“ Mary began, standing conveniently in front of Robert.

“Are you—Robert? Robert?! The dog was Robert!?” Damien nearly shrieked, covering his mouth an enduring another flush of color to his face. The other man at least had the sense to look ashamed, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck.  
“Well, cat’s outta the bag.” Mary chuckled, stepping aside and watching Robert scramble to cover himself, wincing. 

“You aren’t any better than he is, Mary! You knew, didn’t you?” Damien hissed, eyes darting between the accused. All he got was a shrug from the woman.

“So what does that make you?” Damien grumbled, crossing his arms firmly over his chest and trying to stave off more embarrassment. “You humiliated me!”

“I—uh… Thank you?”

Damien made a noise of disgust. He turned away and pinched the bridge of his nose. After a second he glanced over his shoulder.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Damien nodded as Robert shook his head. “I cannot believe this. Why? Why all the secrecy? If I would have known you turned into a dog I could have just patched you up at home! I wouldn’t have worried my son—or gotten into another fight with him over this.” Damien balled his hands into fists.

“A wolf.” Robert said sheepishly. “I uh… not a dog.”

“You’re a lycanthrope, is that what you’re saying?” Damien clarified, nodding again in time with Robert. “Why in the world did you think that needed to be a secret? Does anyone know aside from Mary?”

“Craig.” Robert said.

“Brian.” Mary snorted. “Joseph.”

“Uh, Hugo.”

“So everyone but me, practically?” Damien had not felt so angry—nor so humiliated—in quite some time. “Why?”

“I mean… I already get judged, why add fuel to the fire?” Robert attempted lamely.

“And just what about being a werewolf makes you think I would have judged you harshly? Unfairly?” Damien was temporarily taken aback as Robert looked up at him. There was a strange kind of surprise in Robert’s gaze. Both men looked to Mary and then back at each other.

“Lycanthropy isn’t genetic,” Robert said as if Damien should have known, “I wasn’t… I'm still... human. There's... stigma...“

“And you thought I would...” Damien couldn't finish, feeling his stomach roll. “I can’t believe you. You really thought that I, of all people, would hold that against you? What kind of horrible person do you think I am, Mr.Small?” 

Damien shook his head and shoved open the door. Neither Mary nor Robert called after him. The exam room was quiet for a long moment.

“Your husband shot me.”

“DAMNIT, ROBERT!”


	6. hi sad, i'm dad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter in particular contains: some demon-y stuff, sad Damien, Joseph who is acting nice but you know something is up so he's kinda creepy
> 
> This chapter: Damien processes the night's events and gets a surprise visit from a concerned neighbor...

Damien was restless, his stomach unsettled. He had treated himself a full meal while Lucien was away at school but it hadn’t helped. His son was already gone when Damien had returned from the shelter which meant they had not reconciled from earlier. The goth hated leaving things unfinished.

He sighed heavily, not even some of his favorite books were enough to brighten his spirits. He carefully dog-eared a page and closed the leather, laying the book in his lap to stare out the window. He’d attempted to put the gargoyle back together but had been too distracted by the blood. Then, after cleaning the blood, he’d been too distraught to try and fix the statue.

He considered going out to fix it now—knowing the smell of blood would be long gone—but every time he made to do so he thought about Robert. Damien’s blood came very close to boiling before souring and leaving him feeling ashamed and guilty. Somewhere between ‘how dare he’ and ‘I can’t believe Mary’ Damien’s insecurities took hold and whispered ‘what did I do wrong’ and ‘what must he think of me’?

Almost on the verge of tears, Damien was ripped from his thoughts by two loud knocks at this front door. He quickly replaced the book on the shelf and made his way to the entry hall. He was not expecting visitors and truthfully was in no mood to entertain, but he could be cordial at the very least.

“Ah! Damien, you’re home.” Joseph’s chipper voice greeted the vampire the instant the door began to move. The blond smiled wide, eyes closed to complete the expression.

“Uh, Joseph, it’s a… pleasure. Won’t you come in?” Damien smiled back, only slightly faking. He stepped to the side and waved Joseph forward.

“I won’t be long,” Joseph stepped inside politely, turning to stand in the entrance hall so that he didn’t do anything rude, “I just wanted to ask if you’d seen Mary today?”

“Mary?” Damien frowned, brows knitted together.

“Well, uhmm… yes.” Joseph fiddled with the ring on his left hand. “I thought I heard her come home late last night but she—was not there to help get the children to school this morning. I haven’t heard from her and, well, I’m sure you know how she hates it when I drop by the clinic.” He shrugged a little. “I was just wondering if you knew—“

“The clinic! Oh! Yes.” Damien reached forward and placed his hands on Joseph’s arms. “I apologize tenfold, my friend. This is a misunderstanding and entirely my fault. You see I—there was a dog in my yard last night, injured, and I contacted Mary for assistance. She was with me until an hour most late.” Damien dropped his arms and gave a bow. “I do hope you’ll forgive me.”

“Oh, don’t be so formal, Damien!” Joseph laughed, demeanor all but changed. “I’m just glad someone else is keeping track of her. She’s a wild one!” Joseph frowned as he watched a fleeting expression cross Damien’s face. “Damien? Is everything all right?”

“Ah, yes.” Damien struggled for a smile. “I just—it was a very long night.”

“Is…” It was Joseph’s turn to put a hand on Damien, settling for a firm and caring grip to the goth’s shoulder, “is the dog all right?”

Everything in Damien screamed at him not to say what he considered saying. He knew better than most people that you did not give out other people’s secrets… but this was Joseph. Joseph’s job practically consisted of listening to secrets and not judging. Besides, hadn’t Robert and Mary said last night that Joseph knew? His stomach still felt sick at the idea that he would be betraying someone but… 

“Yes; Robert will be just fine.” Damien’s voice was a dark and bitter flavor he didn’t like.

Joseph lifted an eyebrow. He had known about Robert’s shameful little secret for so long he forgot not everyone did. He seemed to recall Mary saying something about Robert liking to keep it to himself—though why he felt the need when he lived in a cul-de-sac of monsters was beyond the blond—but it slowly clicked into place. He tilted his head to one side and tried to keep his face fairly passive.

“I—I don’t…”

“I was under the impression some poor dog had found its way into my yard. Neither Mary nor Robert felt it… important enough to tell me otherwise until I had made a complete fool out of myself.” Damien felt his anger once again swept away by the tide of guilt. 

“Oh,” Joseph nodded understandingly, softly, “yes that could uh… certainly put a damper on things.” 

“I’m not sure why he felt he had to keep it a secret from me, of all people.” 

“I’m not sure why Robert does half the things that he does, Damien, if we’re being truthful.” Joseph sighed. “Did you… want to talk about it?”

Damien let out a short laugh and waved dismissively, hiding behind his long hair. 

“Oh no, I’m fine, but thank you. I would hate to take up your time over something so trivial; I am sure you have more important things to tend to.”

“Not while the youths are in school,” Joseph laughed, “but I won’t push the issue, just know you can call me any time.” 

“Thank you, it is very much appreciated.” 

“Any time! You know where I live.” Joseph grinned with a wink, showing himself out and closing the heavy door behind him. He felt an odd tingle as he stepped across the threshold and couldn’t stop a quick glance back over his shoulder. He tapped into vision beyond that of a normal man and watched the shadow fiends slink back into the bushes, knowing they’d been seen. He narrowed his eyes slightly as they eyed him warily, tiny malformed bodies like heavy fog. He would keep that information in his back pocket. 

Shadow fiends liked to predict tragedy; Joseph had learned to recognize the special kind of cold, hair-raising air they produced.


	7. smells like teen spirit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter in particular contains: nude Robert, alcoholism, bad habits in the bath tub, inappropriate outlets for anger
> 
> This chapter: Robert realizes he really kind of did fuck up, and he tries to go about his daily life without really doing anything about it...

Robert groaned as he approached his front door—he could already hear Besty digging frantically. He had been out way too long. Damnit. She was worse than Val about making Robert feel guilty.

“I’m sorry, girl.” He offered as genuinely as possible, crouching as he swung open the door. Betsy darted passed him immediately to the yard to relieve herself. 

Robert leaned heavily against the doorframe, keeping a watchful eye on his neglected dog while she sniffed eagerly at the dying, brown grass in his yard. Did the cul-de-sac have an HOA? If they did then Robert got away with murder.

He crossed his arms cautiously over his chest, wincing slightly at the pull in his shoulder. Both injuries were healing rapidly—especially now that he was sober—but they’d been traumatic and would take much longer than they should to heal… for a lycanthrope anyway. By human measures he was a miracle walking. The thought made him shudder.

“C’mon Betsy. I know I owe you all the time outside your little heart desires but I really don’t want too many people to see me in this get-up.” Blue scrubs were just not Robert’s look. He counted himself fortunate that Mary had offered to drop him off at his house instead of at the entrance of the cul-de-sac to walk, as she’d threatened.

The tiny dog turned to look at her owner curiously. She cocked her head to one side as Robert clapped gently against his right leg to call her in. She seemed to consider her options longer than necessary before agreeing and heeding his call.

“Good girl.” Robert praised lazily as Betsy trotted into the house. He slid the deadbolt in place behind himself and headed straight for the shower. He could hear Betsy sniffing the scrubs over vigorously as he removed them and dropped them haphazardly in the hallway. He usually let a clothing trail from one room to the other, but these smelled like vet.

Robert started running a hot bath, hot as he could stand. Leaving the tub to fill he returned—naked—to the kitchen. He fished around in his nearly empty cabinets until he found the particular bottle of scotch he was looking for. He shook it woefully and eyed the remaining alcohol. This was his guilty drink—his ‘I acted like an idiot and involved someone else’ drink (not to be confused with is ‘I acted like an idiot and involved someone else in sex’ drink) and it was almost empty. That spoke volumes about him he was sure.

He retreated to the bathroom bottle-in-hand, not even bothering to close the door behind him. He sunk into the tub and let out a low growl. Besty paused as she walked in after him. She curiously leaned over the side of the tub, front paws well away from the water.

“Fuck.” Robert groaned, reaching down to press his hand against the hole in his thigh. Before he could drown in the responding thoughts he opened the bottle of scotch and took a pull that could only be described as unhealthy. He tilted his head back and let it burn down his throat, dropping his right hand over the side of the tub. Betsy wiggled her way under his fingers and he found himself rubbing behind her ears mindlessly.

By the time Robert was startled awake by loud knocking on his back door, the water was tepid and the steam had all cleared out. He glanced down at Betsy—a little surprised he’d actually fallen asleep in the tub—and watched he ears perk towards the sound. She growled.

Robert struggled to pull himself from the tub, thick with scotch and sore down to his bones. He pulled a towel from a pile of towels and gave it a quick sniff test. Deciding it was satisfactory, he headed down the hall and wrapped it around his waist. The knocking continued, increasing in determination.

“Hold the fuck on.” Robert growled, pulling open his back door. He stumbled backwards as he was hit in the gut with a punch. Catching his breath he narrowed his eyes at his youth assailants; Lucien Bloodmarch and Ernest Vega.

“Nice to see you boys engaging in extra curricular activities.” Robert groaned, rubbing his stomach. 

Lucien wound back for another hit but Ernest grabbed his sleeve. The hoodied boy shook his head.

“Chill dude, Rob’s always got like… knives and rules and shit.” Ernest met Robert’s eyes and narrowed his own. Lucien shrugged hard out of Ernest’s hand and jabbed a finger into Robert’s chest.

“The fuck is your problem, old man?”

“Old man?” Robert grumbled, reaching out to smack away Lucien’s hand.

“My dad’s been outta sorts all day ‘cause of that stunt you pulled.”

“Oh, fuck, yeah… that.”

“Yeah that.” Lucien sneered. “You’re a piece’a work. I get that you’ve got this like dark and mysterious bad boy rep to keep up, but if you ever involve my dad like that again…” 

“Not that I’m not super interested to hear the rest of that threat, kid, but I hear you loud and clear. Last night was an accident. I didn’t mean to involve anyone, let alone your old man.”

“Bu~llshit.” Ernest called, almost laughing. “Who the fuck doesn’t recognize the Bloodmarch yard?” 

Not to be completely worked over by a duo of teenagers, Robert reached out and yanked down Ernest’s hood. The boy’s small cranial fin immediately popped up in a part in his hair. Ernest let out a curse and backed away immediately, trying to push the offending fin down and pull his hood back up.

“Look, man, I don’t care. Just don’t do it again.” Lucien’s voice sounded a little more mature rather suddenly. He made a point to meet Robert’s gaze. The lycanthrope nodded slowly.

“Sure thing. Off the list of possible targets, kid.”

“Pfft, whatever.” Lucien turned and waved dismissively. He grabbed the sleeve of Ernest’s hoody as the ichthyo-sapien continued to struggle with his clothing.

Robert frowned as he watched them wander off into the approaching evening. The towel around his waist began to slip. He reached down with one hand to grab it.

“Hey bro!” Craig Cahn called, waving enthusiastically in the middle of his nightly jog. “Nice night for a—“ 

Robert’s face turned beet red, Craig’s voice cutting off sharply as Robert lifted his hand to wave… and dropped his towel. He fumbled to pick it up as Craig stared, rather unabashedly, but slowly lifted a hand to cover young River’s eyes. 

As Robert stood up and attempted to pull his dignity together and get inside, a small dragon head popped up from behind Craig’s hand. River only understood that she could not longer see, and flicked a forked tongue out curiously. She was quickly distracted as Craig laughed and continued on his jog.

Robert nearly slammed the door shut behind him, leaning against it. He glanced down at Betsy and sighed. He really did need to make it up to Damien somehow. Mary was real sweet on the kid; Robert didn’t know him aside from the goth and the vampire stereotypes. 

“Floral arrangements.” Robert said aloud, watching Betsy scratch at her collar. “Mary’s said he likes floral arrangements… Flowers and their codes or someshit…”

“Boof!” Betsy barked happily as Robert moved away from the door.

“I wonder what flower means ‘sorry I bled all over your antique shirt’.” Robert sat down at his old computer. 

The static sound as the monitor lit up made the werewolf wince, squeezing his eyes shut. The sound bounced around in his ears and seemed to get trapped just above his eyes. It became an unpleasant buzz reminding Robert what awaited him in just a few hours time. He shook it off and logged into his google account.

“’How to apologize in flowers’,” he read to Betsy, knowing she was very invested. “Lilly of the Valley; hmm… friendship, periods of unhappiness… rejuvenation of your bond? Yeah, maybe not. Ivy; you made a mistake… show you’re dependable and committed to fidel—yeah, no. Star of Bethlehem; uncommon, reconciliation, huh… Ah, nope: pure white indicates your desire to return to innocent. Yellow rose; friendship, apologizing for a mis-step, win back graces for a valued friendship.” Robert rubbed his temple and scrolled through the long list. He paused, however, eyes landing on a flower. It struck him as rather beautiful, and he was not a flower kind of guy.

“Blue hyacinth; represents peace, blue shade indicates truth, unique…” He let out a laugh, “Betsy, listen to this: ‘When apologizing it is usually prudent to show that you took a lot of consideration before choosing the flower and thus selecting for something that is unexpected like hyacinths is a very smart and SOLID move.’ The article bolded and underlined solid. What do you think, lady?” He glanced down for Betsy’s approval. “A dozen?” She tilted her head to one side, “two dozen?” 

“BORF!”

“Yeah, borf. Sure. It’s not your money.” Robert begrudgingly placed an order for two dozen blue hyacinths to be delivered to Damien as soon as possible. He let his fingers hover over the keys, staring at the blank note to be attached to the flowers. He settled for:

sorry

-Rob.


End file.
